


Maybe, I'm a King

by orphan_account, rambunctiousragamuffin



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bloodplay, Body Worship, Face-Fucking, Foot Fetish, Hurt/Comfort, I'll see myself to the trash compactor, Implied Force-Sensitive!Hux, Kylux 2016 February Fic Exchange, M/M, Power Play, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-20 03:45:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5990698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rambunctiousragamuffin/pseuds/rambunctiousragamuffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a gift-fic for GallifreyanOmnishambles, and is a reprise on the theme of post-sparring h/c lovin'. </p><p>a.k.a the fic where these two idiots fight, and then fuck. Or maybe it's something a little bit more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. They Miss the Whispers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GallifreyanOmnishambles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyanOmnishambles/gifts).



> Shout-out to the Sin Bin™ for putting up with my wangsting over this fic, and thanks to Alley and otherzev for running through this with me.

General Hux stood steadfast, at a perfect parade rest and adamantly refusing to allow himself to pace around the sparring room. Feet planted firmly on the matted floor, head held high, shoulders squared, and hands behind his back, his stoic countenance was a mere affectation that belied his trepidation. His fingers almost twitched with the desire to run through his hair, to muss his impeccable coiffure, and only a Herculean show of effort suppressed the urge.

 

The Lord of the Knights of Ren may have had a particular proclivity for histrionics, but the General had an equal penchant for theatrics. Everything about his posture was a meticulous exhibition of a hyperbolised presentation of self, for if Hux was to lead by example, he must be _exemplary_.

 

That the Knight was running late for their little… appointment was not unexpected. Though Hux had demanded, nay _ordered_ Ren to be here at twenty-hundred hours, it was now approaching twenty-one-hundred hours. Hux had long suspected that such antics from Ren were simply attempts at making a spectacle of himself, as it was the wise man who played a fool, and on occasion Ren would display a keen insight that revealed him to be a very wise man, indeed.

 

Where Hux affected order, Ren affected chaos. It seemed quite foolhardy to the General, at first, but the more he observed Ren’s antics, the more he understood. If the Knight presented himself as a mercurial creature, volatile and prone to capricious vagaries, he would be underestimated and dismissed as an insignificant threat. The General himself was guilty of this, initially.

 

The knowledge that the Knight of Ren was simply _playing_ the fool did nothing to dissipate Hux’s displeasure at being made to wait, however. He was a _General_  of the First Order, and had many more important matters to attend to with his time than the whimsy of a Knight of Ren, Lord of or no. The fact that Hux was the one to have issued the challenge was irrelevant, it was Ren making him wait, and thus _he_  was the one at fault.

 

Little did Hux know that Ren had actually been standing vigil at the door outside of the sparring room for at least the past forty-five minutes, vacillating on whether or not to enter. Partially, it was to gauge just how far he could push the General before he stomped off in a huff. Hux was a patient man, but he _was_ just a man, and even his patience only extended so far.

 

The other reason why Kylo had remained outside the sparring room for so long was to observe the evolution of Hux’s emotions. He would not do the General the discourtesy of reading his mind--that was an unfair advantage--as he and the General were not _equals._  Not exactly. The Knights of Ren were not officially affiliated with the First Order, but as the Lord of the Knights of Ren, he held an approximately commensurate authority as the General.

 

So no, Kylo would not malign the General in such a crass manner as reading his mind, but he exuded his emotions so emphatically, and Kylo could _feel_  Hux’s mounting impatience, his immolative infuriation, his righteous fury, without even having to reach through the Force.

 

In fact, Hux projected his emotions so prominently that at times Kylo wondered if perhaps Hux was not unconsciously manipulating the Force himself. It was a marvel to see how Hux could manipulate a crowd, moving them from tears of boredom to tears of passion, matching the fervour of the words behind Hux’s ~~asinine~~ inspirational speeches.

 

~~But _how_  Kylo desired to one day be privy to the intimate sanctum of Hux’s thoughts.~~

 

The extra time that Ren had made the General wait allowed his mind to wander, however.

 

* * *

 

Really, Hux should have known better. In fact, Hux _did_  know better. He knew that Ren’s flippant comment had been intended to offend, careless words spoken like a dagger thrown aimlessly, but having unerringly found his heart nonetheless.

 

“Perhaps your promotion to General was a bit premature, Hux, if you cannot command your troops properly.”

 

He could abide by Ren slighting him in front of the Supreme Leader, privately. However he absolutely would _not_  abide by Ren maligning him in front of his crew.

 

Hux should also have known better than to _react_ to Ren’s words, his shoulders stiffened infinitesimally, and jaw clenched. Ren preened at the implicit admission that his insult had hit his mark, drawing himself to his full height and squaring his shoulders. Refusing to recede any more ground than he had, Hux mimicked the action.

 

He and Ren were not quite of a height, but Hux was still taller than the average man, and had an imposing presence--especially with the addition of his greatcoat. When he drew himself up to match Ren’s posture, the less well-trained amongst his men flinched at his show. Not a show of intimidation, no, as Hux doubted that a simple man would be enough to intimidate the Lord of the Knights of Ren. No, instead it was a show that _he_  would not be intimidated.

 

Ren took a loping stride closer towards the General, who kept his gaze—well, glare—even. Ren took another stride closer, and another, until they were standing practically chest-to-chest. Still Hux did not shift his gaze, staring directly into where Ren’s eyes would have been behind his mask.

 

Hux was the first to step back, and Ren somehow puffed his chest up even more, looking quite ridiculous, more like a _wren_  than a Knight of Ren. But it was not a concession to Ren’s quite frankly childish intimidation tactics. He then made a show of taking one of his supple leather gloves off, pulling one finger at a time.

 

When Hux threw his glove at the Knight’s foot, quite literally throwing the gauntlet and issuing Ren a proclamation and challenge both, the General didn’t need to be force-sensitive to _feel_  the Knight’s anger rolling off of him like waves in a tempest.

 

“Very well, _Lord_  Ren,” the words Hux spat were _dripping_ with vitriol. The epithet was used as more of an invective than a sign of veneration, and Ren noted the General’s use of it in this fashion. “Since you seem to be so keen on having a pissing contest, I will indulge you.”

 

“You think that you’re competent enough to face _me_ , the Lord of the Knights of Ren?”

 

“Afraid of a little friendly competition, are you?”

 

Theirs was a fierce rivalry, nothing _friendly_  in their competition, at all. Hux was certain that Kylo Ren would even go so far as to call them _nemeses_ , as histrionic as the Knight had proven himself to be. They were both vying for the ~~fear~~  respect of the First Order, vying for ~~attention~~  praise from the Supreme Leader. They were constantly appraising the other, observing for any weaknesses that they could exploit in their accession to power.

 

In an uncharacteristic pique of laconicity, the Knight merely nodded curtly and said “very well,” before striding out. Shouting out after him, in front of all the bridge crew, would have been ungainly of him in his role as a General. Instead, he waited a few minutes for the tension on the bridge to dissipate, picked up and replaced his missing glove, and sent Ren a message via commlink to tell him where and when this little tête-à-tête would occur.

 

_Sparring room 3, twenty-hundred hours. None of your mystics, no weapons._


	2. Who Are You Really, Wanderer?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what's a bit of fisticuffs between--well, not quite friends.

Hux repressed the reflex to flinch when he heard the hiss of the pneumatic doors opening behind him, but Lieutenant Mitaka did not keep his composure half so well. When the Lord of the Knights of Ren--because who else would it be entering the sparring room at this time?--made no move to enter without Hux’s acknowledgement, the General turned around impatiently and appraised the other man.

He had taken no effort in bothering to prepare for their sparring match, still in his typical robes and insipid mask. The General sneered callously at the Knight of Ren, but the gesture was completely ignored as Ren was instead observing Lieutenant Mitaka who was trembling beside Hux.

“Forgive me, General,” Kylo said, though even through the vocoder, Hux was able to tell that his tone was anything _but_ contrite. “I was not aware that you desired an audience to be privy to your imminent embarrassment.”

Refusing to let the Knight’s cheap jab offend him, Hux’s eyes slid easily from Ren to Mitaka.

“Actually, the Lieutenant was just about to make his exit. But first.” The General shucked his greatcoat and gestured to Mitaka to take it from his person, who then reverently draped it over one arm. After imperiously passing his gloves to him, General Hux knelt down on one knee. If Kylo Ren had thought it was before him, the Knight was sadly mistaken, as General Hux began fastidiously unlacing his boots. They were monstrous things, nearly as intimidating as himself, with complex lacings.

But the General did not rush himself, using the anxious anticipation bubbling up around the room as an intimidation technique of his own. First one boot, then the other. Then one sock, and then the other. It was a dreadful lack of decorum, being barefoot, sans his gloves and overcoat, outside of his rooms. But Ren had been especially incorrigible today, and really, the General’s patience only extended so far.

When the Lieutenant was fully laden with the General’s personal effects, Hux considered him briefly. Seeing Mitaka trying to balance his Greatcoat on one arm with his gloves laid neatly on top, and holding Hux’s boots and socks in the other, the reality of the situation hit him. Was he _honestly_ going to spar with _the_ Lord of the Knights of Ren? Perhaps he should check himself into the medcentre _now_ before any blows had even been exchanged, because there was obviously something wrong with his cognitive processing most probably due to a pre-existing head injury.

Ren could feel the cascade of emotions coursing over the General, as he vacillated on how to proceed. Embarrassment. Shame. Anger. Yes, good. Ren could work with anger. He scoffed derisively, though the effect was distorted somewhat by the vocoder in his mask. But the blatant display of contempt steeled Hux’s resolve with spite. Though Hux’s posture had not crumpled, still as fastidious as ever, he somehow drew himself up even further, squaring shoulders which were not quite so broad now that they didn’t have the bulk of the greatcoat padding them.

“Thank you, Lieutenant. You are dismissed.”

Hux watched Mitaka’s expeditious retreat with a feigned disinterest, only turning his gaze to Ren when the doors had closed behind the Lieutenant.

“Well?” Hux asked.

“Well what?” Ren repeated back, purposely obtuse.

“Are you going to take it off?”

“Am I going to take _what_ off, General?”

“Are you going to be a child and simply repeat everything that I say back to me, or are you going to take your asinine helmet off so we may begin?”

Kylo Ren stared at Hux. The General stared back at the Knight. Or rather, the _mask_ that the Knight was hiding behind. It was an awkward sort of… detente, almost. The two of them staring at each-other, eying each-other up. If Hux felt uncomfortable having a staring match with a blank mask, he didn’t let it show. The General was also not the first one to look away.

It felt like Hux had won the first round when Ren reached up and unlatched his mask. The concession would have almost felt like something close to subservience if not for the intent glare that Ren sent Hux. If the effect was somewhat lessened by Ren’s youthful visage, well, that was a comment that Hux kept to himself.

Nodding not quite contentedly at Ren’s subtle surrender, Hux turned and gestured towards the sparring room.

“Shall we?”

It wasn’t until Hux was halfway through the room that he realised that the Knight had made no effort to follow him, instead he stood, looking uncertainly between his helmet and the door.

“Don’t tell me that the great _Lord_ of the Knights of Ren is worried he might be put in his place by a mere General,” Hux goaded. It was a tactless jab, more insulting to himself than Ren if he thought about it, but his words reached their mark if the glare that Ren sent him was anything to go by.

If looks could kill, Hux would be dead twice over by now the fire behind Ren’s glare was so fierce.

“You are no _mere_ General, _Brendol._ ”

Hux wasn’t surprised that Ren knew his first name. It was hardly a secret as it was on his service records, and being Snoke’s favoured pet, Ren would have had access to them. No, what surprised Hux was the fact that _that_ was the part of his statement that Ren seemed to have latched onto. Not Hux’s half-hearted attempt at insulting the Knight, but his unintentional insult to himself.

Unsure at how to react to the Knight’s unexpected compliment, Hux channelled the nebulous feeling growing in his belly into something he knew better, something more familiar, and comfortable. Hux scoffed derisively, transmuting all of his uncertainty into anger.

“Well, come on then,” the General jeered. “Some of us actually have work to do, so I can’t spend all evening lollygagging, no matter how much I _adore_ your company. Are we going to fight?”

Kylo appraised Hux for a long moment, his pensive look softening his features even further, and making Hux question just how _young_ he was. Surely to be the _Lord_ of the Knights of Ren, he would have to be powerful beyond peer. Hux didn’t know much about the Force, but he imagined that degree of power would require scrupulous cultivation and training.

Hux found that the idea of how much Power the Knight commanded wasn’t intimidating, but he refused to acknowledge it as being arousing, so instead he settled for jealousy. Jealousy that the immature man-child could have so much intrinsic power, when Hux had to work for his. Not just work, no. Hux had _strived_ for his position, yet all the fear and respect he could ever command would be a pittance compared to what Ren was capable of.

“Very well, _General_ Hux,” Kylo sneered, the vitriol in his voice a clear mockery of Hux’s technique of using epithets as insults, “I’ll give you your fight.”

Kylo kneeled down, depositing his helmet on the mats on the floor, and began to unlace his boots. There was not much that Hux could do besides keep himself from bouncing from foot to foot while waiting. Sure, the Knight may have a prodigious amount of power, but he was _undisciplined,_ and that would be his downfall. Hux would prove it to him.

Hux did not make the first move, instead waiting for the Knight to come to him. Neither did he drop into formation, first, simply watching Kylo circle around him, gravitating like an orbital pull. When Ren practically pounced forward, closing the distance between their bodies in an attempt at intimidation, Hux did not flinch. When Ren feinted left, Hux did not make a move to defend himself.

“Well, come on, then,” Kylo cajoled, a mimicry of Hux’s earlier statement. 

In the end. _that_ was what spurred Hux into action. He reeled back, and putting as much of his body weight as possible into the maneuver, he landed a punch square on Ren’s mouth. He had broken one of the cardinal rules of fistfighting, not to punch anyone in the face, and in the process had split his knuckles as well as Ren’s lips. 

When Hux drew his hand back to shake out the stinging, the Knight smiled. But it was a cold thing, no warmth behind it. A rictus, full malice, with blood in his teeth. He spat at the General’s feet, an implicit taunt to do better. So Hux did. He stepped forward and used his forehead to butt at Ren’s own head, and felt the crown of his hairline connect with Ren’s eye socket.

They were fighting in earnest, then. The Knight used his negligible height advantage to bring a knee up into Hux’s unprotected stomach, right into his ribs, and forced Hux’s breath right out of him. The General instantly hunched over, grasping his torso, and chuckled mirthlessly. 

When Ren took a step back, Hux charged forwards, driving his shoulder into the Knight’s stomach and pushing him off balance. Ren stumbled, briefly, but regained his balance in time to drive an elbow into Hux’s back. The General’s knees buckled beneath him, dropping him to the floor. 

There was a brief moment where their eyes locked. Hux’s were filled with defiance as he wiped the blood from his mouth, and Ren’s were filled with something undefinable. The Knight brushed back a stray lock of copper hair from the General’s forehead before cupping his cheek. Hux tried to convince himself that the only reason why he leaned into the gesture was because he was off balance.

“Do you yield?” Ren asked, his voice no louder than a murmur.

Rather than dignifying Ren’s query with a response, Hux pushed himself to his feet, attempted to straighten his uniform--to no avail, it was too crumpled from their antics--and glared at the Knight who smiled sadly. It was little more than a rueful quirk of his ~~licentiously luscious~~ lips, but it tugged at Hux’s stomach. But that would be something to ponder later, because suddenly the Knight was unleashing a flurry of blows against Hux’s abdomen.

Breathless, and off-balance, Hux carelessly swung his fist, just barely boxing the side of Kylo’s ear. Letting out a pained howl, Kylo brought his knee up once more, meeting Hux’s body at the apex of his legs. With a groan of his own, the General fell backwards, once more on the floor, curled up and nursing his injury.

“Yield,” Ren stated softly. It was not a request this time.

The General mewled pitifully in response. Taking this as acquiescence, Ren proffered a hand to assist Hux to his feet. But the General’s injured pride did not allow him to take it, and he spat at instead. Ren recoiled sharply, his face contorting from pity to disgust in a matter of moments.

“No,” Hux grunted, forcing himself to his feet once more.

Ren didn’t attack immediately, once more circling around Hux, who was swaying unstably on his feet. The General’s composure had cracked, however, and what a _sight_ he made before Ren, heaving great gasping breaths--with a quiet wheeze, he’d have to have his lungs checked in the medbay-- with his hair all in disarray, holding one hand to his stomach in pain. His posture had collapsed, his shoulders hunched in on himself, and his normally stoic mask had morphed into a pained moue.

Not that the Knight was unscathed, either. His split lip was still bleeding, and he cleared the blood in his mouth by spitting again--away from the General this time--and a brilliant bruise forming around his eye. He was also breathing hard, though from exertion, rather than from pain, and a small trickle of sweat was seeping down his neck into the collar of his robes.

This time, when the Knight feinted, the General attempted to block the phantom blow, prompting a callous laugh from Ren.

“Look at you,” Ren taunted. “You can barely even stand, and yet you still refuse to submit?”

Gathering up the last vestiges of his wounded pride, Hux looked Ren in the eye. He winced a little when he tried to square his shoulders, and found that he could not draw himself to his full height, which somehow managed to make him look even _more_ pitiful than before.

“Make me.”

With a quick sweep of Ren’s leg behind Hux’s knee, the Knight once again drove Hux to the ground. A tense moment lapsed wherein Hux had the opportunity to try and stand, but he didn’t, and Ren stalked around the General much like a predator stalked his prey. When Hux hung his head in capitulation, the Knight stopped behind him and pushed him from shoulders shoulders, forcing his face into the mats.

“Yield,” a terse demand this time.

Hux’s response was barely more than a whisper, and Ren barely caught it over the sound of his own breathing and his blood rushing in his ears.

“What was that?”

“I said, no!” the General shouted breathlessly, before his body was wracked by a shuddering sob.

Kylo’s exasperated sigh could have almost been called fond, as he walked around to the General’s side. He prodded Hux’s hip with his foot, not ungently, silently urging him to turn on to his back. When Hux refused, Kylo sighed once more, before dropping to his knees and shoving Hux, less kindly this time, over.

When the General made no further movement, Ren pressed his arm to the General’s neck.

“Why do you persist? _Yield!_ ”

Hux floundered for a moment, caught between a rock and a hard place. He had already lost the match, whether or not he refused to acknowledge it. But suddenly he was so _tired_ and did not have it in him to resist the inevitable any more. He allowed his eyelids to droop, and Ren found himself staring at his eyelashes. Hux allowed his mouth to fall open slightly, though the Knight was not imparting any pressure on this throat, being on his back meant that he was having difficulty breathing with his injured ribs. Ren found himself staring at this, also.

All the adrenaline pumping through his system had heightened his senses, and this close to him, the General could smell the musky tang of Ren’s sweat, could feel the heat of Ren’s arm against his throat even through Ren’s bulky robes and his own collar. He could hear the way that their struggled breaths almost synchronised, how they seemed to exist in that moment in tandem.

The mood between them had shifted from something coarse and unrefined and _angry_ to something… well, not quite gentle. Things between them would never be gentle. But it was almost _kind._

“Yield,” Ren pleaded softly.

“Yes,” Hux barely eked out. But it did not feel like a surrender, not when Ren _sobbed_ with relief, and pressed a tender kiss to Hux’s lips. The angle was awkward as the Knight was practically perpendicular to the General, but it was a promise for more.


	3. The Answer You Have to Give

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY, THE SEXY TIEMS BEGIN

Hux groaned as he finally sunk into the chair in his office. He was almost regretting his decision to decline the analgesics that the medbay had offered him. His ribs were merely bruised, not broken, and he was not suffering from any internal bleeding, so he decided to sequester himself in his rooms with the remnants of his shattered ego.

Really. What _had_ he been thinking, challenging the _Lord_ of the Knights of Ren to a sparring duel? Even without his mystical Force powers, Hux had been thoroughly defeated.

Evidently he _hadn’t_ been thinking, and Hux let out an inelegant snort. Of course, the rapid expulsion of air then caused his ribs to ache, and caused Hux to grimace.

Hux just sat there, staring into nothing, doing his best to keep his mind blank, but somehow, each time, his thoughts would drift back to Kylo Ren. He was incorrigible, _insufferable_ but the way that he challenged Hux was one of the most satisfying challenges he’d had since his days at the Academy. 

Ren was a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. Mercurial on the best of days, the Knight was renowned for his capricious vagaries as much as his prodigious power. He was a force of nature, and often his fits of temper were tempestuous, to say the least, wreaking destruction like a hurricane thundercloud.

When the holopad from outside Hux’s chambers chirped to alert him of a visitor requesting access broke his reverie, Hux barely repressed a sigh. Seeing as it was now oh-three-hundred hours, there would only be one person seeking to impose his presence upon the General. But Hux found it strange that Ren would _ask_ for permission to enter his rooms. Normally the Knight just came sauntering in at his leisure.

Opening his commlink to just voice, he answered the Knight’s request for access.

“Come to gloat, have you? You couldn’t even let me recover from my injuries in peace?”

“No,” while the Knight’s answer was brusque, his tone was truly contrite.

“Very well, but I have a meeting at oh-six-hundred with Captain Phasma, so I don’t have long.”

When Ren entered his rooms, and came into Hux’s office, what the General found to be even stranger was how _exposed_ the Knight looked. Normally, he held himself with aplomb, but now he was hunched over himself. It did nothing to diminish his height, but did wonders for making him look vulnerable. When he strode in without his mask--something that was hitherto unheard of as he had not seen Ren’s face before tonight--the General could also see just how _expressive_ the Knight’s face could be, even when bruised as it was. The piteous look that Ren was giving Hux rankled the other man, and Hux sneered contemptuously over at Ren.

“Yes?” Hux asked impatiently. “What business was so urgent that it could not wait until the morning?”

“The medical staff said that you were discharged at oh-one-hundred.”

“Yes, that is correct. What relevance does that have to your business here?”

“They also said that you had refused any analgesics.”

“That is also correct. But my personal proclivities have no consequence to you, so if that will be all--”

“But they do!” interjected the Knight.

“Pardon me?”

“I… can feel it.”

“Feel what?”

“You!”

Hux raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Me?”

“I can feel your pain!” Ren’s sudden increase in pitch startled Hux, which caused the pain in his ribs to flare up, which in turn made Ren flinch.

“I can feel your pain,” repeated Ren, softer.

“Good. I hope you feel every blow that you landed on my body, but now I’m afraid it’s time for you to leave.”

“No! Wait! If you refused medication, then perhaps I can help.”

“How, pray tell, do you offer to do that?”

Ren paused for a moment, pondering his wording. He bit his lower lip while trying to find a proposition that the General would be amenable to, opening up the split that the General himself had caused earlier.

“...Endorphins.”

“I’m sorry?”

Ren seemed almost reticent to part with his next words; as he knew that depending on their reception, he may be forced to part from the General, and that was an eventuality that he wasn’t yet prepared for.

“Endorphins can take the edge off of the pain, temporarily.”

Hux took a moment to mull over the implications. Surely Ren wasn’t suggesting what Hux thought he was? The gumption to proposition him in such a manner! The _gall._

“How, pray tell, do you plan on inducing endorphins?” The General was blatantly phishing, forcing Ren to reveal his hand.

A claret blush adorned Kylo’s cheeks, contrasting starkly against his pallid skin and the deep bruises forming around his eye and by his mouth. The Knight had the sudden urge to run his hands through his hair to comfort himself, but he settled for clenching and unclenching his fists by his sides.

“Physical… intimacy… can be used to induce endorphins. In addition, the adrenaline can help… numb the pain, somewhat.”

“Yes, yes, very funny _Lord_ Ren. You’ve had your laugh at my expense. Now please, leave me in peace.”

“I was not joking, _General._ It was a legitimate proposition.”

Hux stared at Ren for a long moment. He was not a Force-user, and indeed not even Force-sensitive, so he had no way to read a person’s mind. He was, however, a keen observer of human nature, and was able to discern a lie from even the subtlest of body language. The General had spent a _long_ time observing the Knight of Ren, learning his tics. Not that he needed to use the information that he had gleaned, Ren’s expressions were so overtly displaying his authenticity.

Satisfied that Ren’s proposition was as legitimate as he claimed, Hux pushed his chair back from his desk, spread his legs in invitation, and gestured to the recently created space by his feet with a snap of his fingers.

“Come,” demanded Hux. Kylo’s face scrunched in confusion, and looked between where Hux had gestured and the man’s face.

“I’m… Pardon?”

“Now, _boy._ ” The General’s cadence had dropped to a low, dangerous tone that promised a decadent depravity, and sent shivers down Kylo’s spine. The Knight eagerly complied, crossing the distance in a few short strides before crumpling himself gracelessly before Hux. His enthusiasm scared him, but his concerns quickly dissipated when long, slender fingers stroked through his hair.

“Good.” Just one simple word and Kylo was nearly _undone_ , preening under the praise and leaning into the grasp. The fingers that were stroking his luscious locks dug in and tugged sharply, eliciting a small keen from the Knight.

“Undress me.”

“...Sorry?”

“You heard me, _boy_.” Again with the diminutive, again with the shiver down Kylo’s spine.

“Y-yes.”

“Yes…?”

“Yes, _Sir_.”

“Good. You may begin.” But when Kylo’s hands grasped for Hux’s fly, the General swatted them away sternly with the hand that was not in Kylo’s hair.

“Boots first.” Kylo wasn’t even sure when Hux had put his boots back on. Had he had Lieutenant Mitaka meet him at the Medbay to return his personal effects? Had Mitaka simply waited outside the sparring room for Hux to exit? That seemed the more likely, as Kylo couldn’t imagine Hux ever abiding by striding through the halls of the _Finalizer_ in such a state of dishabille, without his shoes, or gloves, or coat.

“As you wish,” Kylo acknowledged and turned his attention to Hux’s stiff, heavy uniform boots and began to unlace them. It was an arduous process as it was difficult to focus on the fiddly task in front of him--honestly, what kind of knots did Hux use to tie his bootlaces?--with fingers threaded in his hair and carding through the strands. 

When finally, _finally_ Kylo managed to unlace Hux’s first boot, the General dragged his nails across the Knight’s scalp, scratching lightly, and nearly drove him to distraction.

But a quiet admonishment, barely even a “tsk” under the General’s breath, and Kylo was reminded of his task. Gently, almost reverently, Kylo held back the tongue of Hux’s boot to divest the General’s foot from its confinement, and set the boot to the side. When Kylo moved to repeat the process with Hux’s other boot, however, another sharp tug to his hair told him that the General was Displeased.

“The sock, too, boy,” chastised Hux.

“Yes, Sir.” Kylo was a bit surprised to see that Hux, generally a stickler for adhering to the draconian uniform code of the First Order, was wearing non-standard issue socks. The lush blue-dyed bantha wool adorning Hux’s foot contrasted brilliantly with the pale skin of his ankles. But Kylo wisely decided not to comment on Hux’s sartorial decisions, and simply went about his task removing the sock.

Hux’s toes twitched when exposed to the cool air of his office once the offending garment was removed, and Kylo smiled to see such a… human reaction come from the otherwise unflappable General. Again, Kylo moved to set to work on the other boot, and again his hair was tugged sharply, dissuading him from the notion.

“Get to work.”

“Sir?”

When Hux rolled his ankle and flexed his toes, Kylo got the hint, and as he dig his thumbs gently into the arch of the General’s foot, the pads of fingers rubbed gently into his scalp. The General reciprocated the pressure that the Knight applied, when Kylo dug a bit too hard into the ball of Hux’s foot, Hux responded judiciously harsh.

They remained like that for several minutes, Kylo on his knees before Hux’s spread legs, rubbing the General’s foot while the General was playing with the Knight’s hair. They were both silent save for the sound of their breathing, though Kylo desperately wished he would be privy to the small, needy sounds that Hux refused to release from the back of his throat.

Eventually, Hux tugged again on Kylo’s hair, but with far more care than previously.

“Very good. Now the other.”

Kylo nodded his acknowledgement and began the Sisyphean process all over again. Unlacing the Gordian knot, removing Hux’s intimidating footwear, and working out the kinks caused by a day in the aforementioned boots. Massaging around the ankle, stroking the heel, kneading the arch. It was a rather Pyrrhic process, as the knowledge that all of his efforts would be in vain by this time the following day was in the forefront of Kylo’s mind.

Again, the time passed mostly in silence, except for when one of Hux’s nails grazed in _just_ the right spot behind Kylo’s ear and he let out a low whine, or the time when Kylo’s thumb found _just_ the right spot on the ball of Hux’s foot to make him exhale a contented sigh--which felt like a vindication, like _absolution_.

“Get up, boy.”

Kylo tilted his head to look at Hux, perplexed.

“Sir?”

“On to my lap. I won’t ask you again.”

Before he realised, Kylo was sitting astride Hux’s lap, and his exuberance embarrassed him when he accidentally jostled Hux the wrong way, causing extra pressure on his injured ribs.

“Sorry, sir. I’m so sorry--” Kylo babbled, and Hux silenced him by placing one of his index fingers on Kylo’s lips.

“You said you could _feel_ my pain. What did you mean?”

Kylo heeded the implicit direction to not speak until Hux removed his finger, instead laying his hands on Kylo’s hips.

“I don’t… feel it, perhaps, so much as _sense_ it.”

“Through the Force.”

“Yes..”

“Tell me, what do you _sense_ ,” mocked Hux, “when I do _this_?”

The General pulled the Knight closer, dragging their clothed erections together. Wait. When did Kylo get hard?

Kylo couldn’t find the words, so confused was he by his own pleasure, and the feedback loop of Hux’s pleasure echoing through the Force.

“Tell me, what do you sense when I do _this_ ” Hux said, thrusting his hips up against Kylo.

This time, Kylo let out an involuntary keen at the sensation, and Hux fisted one of his hands in Kylo’s hair for the sole purpose of pulling it sharply.

“I said ‘tell me,’ _boy_. Use your words.”

“I… I sense your ah-” Kylo’s higher cognitive processes were derailed with another roll of Hux’s hips.

“Well?”

“I sense your… anticipation. No, no, your _excitement_.”

“Mmm? What am I excited about?”

“I--I can ha-” another roll “hazard a guess.”

“I didn’t ask you to ‘hazard a guess.’ But if you’re good, perhaps I’ll elucidate you.”

“How… how can I be good for you, Sir?”

“You may continue undressing me.”

Trembling fingers fumbled with the clasp of Hux’s belt buckle, sweaty fingers scrabbling and scrambling for purchase on the smooth, shiny metal. They finally caught on the clasping mechanism, and the belt slid to the floor as Kylo ran his fingers up Hux’s tunic to his collar.

Softly tracing Hux’s throat with one of his hands, ~~Kylo took a moment to marvel at how beautiful it would look with bruises adorning the delicate flesh like a collar~~ and resting it at the nape of Hux’s neck, he raised the other to sit softly on Hux’s shoulder. Not digging his hand into the uniform, just sitting.

Using his hair like a marionette’s strings, Hux pulled Kylo’s head forward until their foreheads met. Simply staring directly into the other’s eyes and exchanging breaths, they were ensconced in a bubble of intimacy, only the two of them existing in that moment.


	4. Maybe, I'm a King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finally, they get to their organisms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it's taken me so long, I'm back in classes now, and getting back into the swing of things has kicked me in the ass.
> 
> once again, this was a gift fic for GallifreyanOmnishambles, and I hope that I did your prompt justice <333

Kylo’s gaze kept dropping down to Hux’s lips, but he made no move to close the remaining distance between their mouths. Instead, Hux was the first to move, using his nose to nuzzle Kylo’s cheek just under the demarcation of the black eye that Hux had given him during their sparring session. Kylo’s eyelashes fluttered against his skin, sweet little butterfly kisses, a sensation barely light enough to tickle, and Hux had to suppress a giggle.

Oh, no, that would not do. So Hux started trailing a series of busses from Kylo’s bruised eye socket, down his cheek, along his jawline, to his lips. The Knight gasped into the General’s mouth when he bit down on the Knight’s split lip, reopening the minor wound and causing a small trail of blood to trickle out.

Hux pulled back, eyes tracking the path where it ran down Kylo’s chin, and observing a small bloody bead coalesce at the apex. Just before it could fall, however, Hux caught it with his thumb, and traced upwards, collecting the rest of the slowly seeping trail and smearing it across Kylo’s face.

The General then brought his thumb to his lips, lapping at the Knight’s blood, _luxuriating_ in it. His eyes closed in satisfaction as he closed his lips around his thumb, sucking it into his mouth, simply enjoying the sharp, salty taste on his tongue.

Kylo bit his lip to prevent the pitiful sound he wanted to make escaping from the back of his throat, hissing when his teeth dug into the tender flesh of his split lip. The sudden exhalation surprised Hux into opening his eyes, and there was a moment where the two of them did not exchange a single word, but they came to the same exultant consensus.

Keeping the hand on Hux’s nape, just under his impeccably pomaded hair, Kylo moved his other hand to repeat Hux’s motion of gathering up a small bead of blood that had trickled from the cut in his lip, proffering an oblation. A tense second passed where Ren worried that he had overstepped his bounds, that he had misinterpreted the situation, and Hux was simply staggered by the act of veneration.

Removing his hand from Kylo’s hair, Hux reached out to grasp Kylo’s hand with both of his, and drew the libation to his lips, licking the libation up like it was manna, _ambrosia_. The Knight licked his own lips and swallowed heavily when he saw the ecstasy that his act had inspired in the General.

Hux noted the movement in his periphery, his gaze darting down to Kylo’s lips, and following the way that the trail stained his pale skin with red. Releasing Kylo’s hands to cup either side of his face, Hux leaned down--despite the protesting of his ribs--to lap up the bloody tracks from chin to lips.

When their lips met, it was just a subtle pressing of their mouths together. It wasn’t sensual, instead, it was oddly _serene_. They remained like that for a few moments, until the pain in Hux’s ribs grew too great to ignore, and he had to draw back. The Knight chased the General’s retreating lips, but misgauged his momentum and their teeth clacked together awkwardly.

The gaffe elicited a low growl, deep in Hux’s chest, and he nipped sharply directly at the cut upon Ren’s lips, drawing a hiss from between his teeth. But Hux just swallowed the hiss into his mouth and soothed the minor laceration on Kylo’s lip with a smooth stroke of his tongue. It was a soft sigh that Hux’s mouth swallowed, then, and he nibbled impossibly softly--just the barest bite--at the lesion before pulling back again.

When the Knight didn’t chase the General this time, Hux stroked Kylo’s lower lip with his thumb, and uttered a low praise.

“ _Good_ , boy.”

Tilting his head the other way, Hux once again brought his lips to Kylo’s. This time was not so gentle, not so sweet. This time, when Hux brushed his tongue against Kylo’s lips, the kiss became downright _filthy_ ; panting heavily into the other’s open mouth, not licking into the other’s mouth so much as _thrusting_ , tugging at the other’s lips with their teeth.

At some point during this kiss, Hux had fisted both hands in Kylo’s hair again, and pulled Kylo’s head away like a puppeteer pulling strings.

The General had to take a moment to gather his breath before he could speak evenly, in a commandeering, _demanding_ tone.

“Undress me.”

“Yes,” whispered Kylo, barely more than a breath.

Reverently, Kylo moved his hands to unfurl Hux’s collar, fingers skimming along the sensitive skin of his throat, and Hux tilted his head back, in a sign not so much of subservience, but of faith. Pulling back the flap obfuscating the pull-tab to the zipper on Hux’s tunic, Kylo tugged once, tugged twice, tugged too many times at the pull-tab that refused to budge from the top-stop and engendering a derisive scoff from Hux, who winced at the pain caused in his ribs.

One of Hux’s hands closed around Kylo’s wrist, squeezing just a bit too hard and grinding the bones together. Pulling his hand away, the Knight sullenly pouted at the General, who had begun ceremoniously unzipping his tunic himself.

After divesting himself of the garment, Hux folded it neatly, and offered it to Kylo, who looked at it in confusion.

“Put it on the desk.”

In order to do as commanded, Kylo had to slide off of Hux’s lap, swaying a bit on legs sore from sitting in the one position for so long. But when Kylo moved to return to his perch, Hux spread his legs insouciantly, preventing Kylo from doing so.

“Sir?”

“Down,” Hux said, gesturing once more to the space on the floor between his feet.

Kylo tilted his head to the side and blinked owlishly, appearing more like a Lord Wren than a Lord Ren.

“ _Sir_?” repeated Kylo, purposefully obtuse.

“I said _down_ , boy. Don’t make me take matters into my own hands.”

But Kylo simply grinned impishly, and looked Hux up and down. In such a state of dishabille, without his boots and greatcoat, the General was far less imposing a figure and far less intimidating. While they were almost of a height standing, Hux was reclined redolently in his chair and Kylo loomed over him.

“Very well,” hissed Hux between clenched teeth as he forced himself up out of his chair, wincing at how moving the wrong way had made his ribs hurt. A quick jab to Ren’s diaphragm, just under the sternum, would not normally be enough to bring the Lord of the Knights of Ren to his knees, but the General had managed to unerringly find a spot where he had injured earlier. Buckling to his knees with a breathless laugh, Kylo bowed his head in deference.

Hux cupped Kylo’s jaw in his hand, tilting his head up. Stroking along his jaw, Hux marvelled at the sight before him, the infamous, _ignominious_ Kylo Ren brought to his knees in exaltation. With one hand, Hux dug his thumb into Kylo’s swollen lower lip, and with his other freed his own erection.

Kylo’s mouth opened with a reflexive gasp, and Hux pushed his thumb in, holding the Knight’s lower jaw down by his teeth.

“Behave,” Hux all but growled under his breath.

Since Kylo’s mouth was being forcibly held open, he couldn’t respond verbally, but he lowered his lashes in acquiescence.

“Good,” murmured Hux, and moved his thumb to stroke Kylo’s bruised cheek instead, as he replaced the digit in Kylo’s mouth with his own member. Just the tip, at first, tantalising himself with the wet heat of Kylo’s mouth. Slowly, in small, short strokes, Hux thrust more and more of himself in, until his head had broached the back of Kylo’s mouth. Kylo did not gag at the intrusion, but it was a close thing, and he had to ball his hands tightly into fists in order to control himself.

For a long moment, Hux remained still in Kylo’s mouth, just resting the weight of his length on Kylo’s tongue. When he drew back and _slammed_ back in, Kylo _did_ gag this time, the contraction of the muscles in his throat constricting around Hux’s cock and drawing a ragged pant from the otherwise unflappable General.

This small admission-- _confession_ \--of Hux’s self-control slipping felt like a paragon of praise to Kylo, and he preened, grinning slightly. Of course, this revealed his teeth, grazing Hux’s cock gently, and Hux hissed in displeasure. The General tugged tightly at the Knight’s hair, causing Kylo to grimace and his teeth scraped less gently against Hux this time as he retracted his cock from Ren’s mouth.

He barely withdrew in time to land a few sticky streams of semen on Kylo’s face, pearlescent beads dripping daintily from his eyelashes, contrasting against the mottled bruise on his eye, anointing his lips. One particularly enterprising spurt had trickled down the same path that one of the bloody beads had trailed, and wasn’t that a sight. Hux’s milky fluids mingling with the sanguine remnants of Kylo’s.

“Very good, boy. Now take off your pants, and sit on the chair.”

Unlike Hux, Kylo hadn’t bothered to put his boots back on after their sparring earlier, so the demand was easy to comply with, shucking his pants, and sitting square on the seat.

“No. Closer.”

Kylo shifted a bit closer.

“ _Closer_.” There was something almost _dangerous_ in Hux’s tone, a predatory gleam in his eyes. Practically dragging Kylo forward by the hips, Hux brought him to the very edge of the chair. In an uncharacteristic pique of body shyness wrought by feeling so _vulnerable_ under Hux’s keen gaze, Kylo tucked his knees together and daintily folded his hands in his lap, obfuscating his obvious arousal.

“No. I want to _see_ you, boy.”

Placing one hand on either of Kylo’s knees, Hux gently spread them. It was slow, mostly letting Kylo set the pace. Hux didn’t force the issue, pressing against Kylo’s resistance. He just let them fall apart further as Kylo was more comfortable, keeping his hands there as a reassuring weight.

Even though Kylo’s legs were now fully open, his hands were still in the way. Running his hands up Kylo’s legs, scratching lightly along the way, Hux brought his eyes up to meet Kylo’s lowered gaze.

“Please.” It was the first time that Hux had _asked_ for a concession, rather than demanding that Kylo do something. The irony is, though that in asking Kylo to reveal himself to Hux, the General was conceding his own power, and submitting himself to the authority of Kylo’s personal agency.

They simply remained like that for what felt like a little piece of eternity, their eyes conveying all the emotion, all the sentiment that they were both too afraid to voice: Kylo’s hesitation, because though he was ostensibly in the position of power--with Hux on his knees before him--Kylo was the one that still felt exposed. Hux’s eyes conveyed his incommensurable patience, and somehow, confidence.

When Kylo still made no movement after a long moment--not that either of were counting their breaths or heartbeats--Hux tentatively took Kylo’s hands and intertwined their fingers. Giving Hux’s hands a gentle squeeze, and then giving a more emphatic nod, Kylo signalled his consent for Hux to proceed. Hux didn’t make a great production about revealing Kylo, knowing that it would embarrass the other man too much. Instead, he delved in with great aplomb, lapping and laving at Kylo’s tight pucker.

He flattened his tongue, and licked a broad stripe up from Kylo’s tailbone to taint, using his nose to nuzzle Kylo. He speared his tongue to a point, and used it to draw concentric circles around the rim of Kylo’s entrance. Hux suckled and sucked, nibbled and nipped at the flesh of Kylo’s buttocks, while gently stroking the back of Kylo’s hand.

All through his ministrations, Hux didn’t let go of Kylo’s hands once, and he could feel Kylo’s incipient release in the way Kylo tightly clutched his hand, in the fluttering of Kylo’s ring of muscle beneath his tongue. Hux was so enraptured in his own personal perception of the experience, the scent, the _taste_ of Kylo, the rushing of blood in his ears, the cool, slick slide of spit trailing down his chin, that he completely missed how Kylo sighed his name as he finally came, defiling his robes with sticky streams of semen.

* * *

Neither one said a single word as they gathered their habillements, until Kylo was about to leave Hux’s chambers. The Knight dithered just in front of the doorway, lingering just a little bit longer, at the risk of the Sword of Damocles falling on his head.

He wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure _what_ to say. Thanks for the orgasm? Thanks for beating me up and then getting me off?

It was Hux who once more made the first move.

“Stay,” he all but demanded, not even looking at Kylo, but once again at his datapad. He didn’t dare look up when he heard the rustle of moving fabric. _Please._

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
